


The Lady or the Tiger

by oneiriad



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneiriad/pseuds/oneiriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Answers In Blood. It's three years - three years Athelstan spends at King Ecbert's court - before Ragnar returns to England once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lady or the Tiger

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Vikings does not belong to me.

Time passes in England - and Ragnar doesn’t come.

Autumn, winter, spring. Athelstan’s wounds heal, slowly but surely. And he settles into yet another new life - a life as Ecbert’s pet pagan, favoured enough that the king will ask his advice at court, where everyone might see.

Summer comes. Raiding season. Every day he expects the messengers to come, to bring word: “The Northmen have come, the Northmen have come.” Every day he expects Ragnar to return.

He doesn’t.

Not that summer nor the next.

Three years at Ecbert’s court and his wounds are - well, his hands will never grasp neither axe nor pen as they once did, and while he no longer needs a cane, neither will he ever run swiftly through the forest or stand in a shield wall again.

He goes to confession and he goes to mass and he no longer sees Leif’s blood run across the altar when they pour the wine.

The third summer the messengers finally come and Ragnar follows in their wake, Lagertha and a tall young man that must be Bjorn at his side.

When Ragnar sees him, the man stops for a moment and something flickers in his eyes. But just for a moment, for Ragnar is here on business, at this carefully planned meeting between himself and Ecbert. There are plans to make, an alliance to build.

English lands to conquer and share.

Shadows lengthen when Ragnar turns to leave.

"Are you coming?" he asks, this man who is his Earl, deceptively indifferent as he tightens the saddle-girth on his horse.

Athelstan glances at Ecbert - at his king.

"You are free to go with him, if that’s what you want," the king says, as he turns to his own horse, hoists himself in the saddle. "Though, of course, you are always more than welcome at my court."

"Well?" Ragnar barks impatiently from where he’s sitting on his horse. Athelstan looks first at one of the men, then at the other. Earl or King, Northman or Englishman?

He lifts a hand, curling it around the cross he’s taken to wearing again, praying for guidance - but when he looks down, he sees the silver arm ring against his skin, and he finds that he’s no longer certain exactly who he is praying to.


End file.
